Kevin Casciani Nolan

Heavily Distorting Footage From "Hour Of The Wolf" By Ingmar Bergman. With An Express Focus On Faces And Bodies. Hollowing And Pronouncing Facial Features And Through Repetition Of Movement, Furthering A Preexisting Horror, Creating An Intensified Alter Reality. Form, Flesh And Soul Buried In Distortion

Voices Calling Telling Ripened By Truth Listen To Them Cradle The Consequence Things Get Worse Not Better Barely Breathing Sightless Seeing Beneath The Eyelids Even In Dreams Memories Sinless Image Carving Its Remembrance Over Scar Tissue Left Freely To Drown In Ones Own Bloodless Corpse Controlled And Freshly Abused One Sharp Brutal Instant To Become Painfully Immortal Deprived Of Everything But The Cure.

It Seemed In A Dream Like A Half Deceased Memory Failing In Its Own Relationship With The Truth. Buried Under Consciousness, Suffered Externally, Scarred Internally. A Great Silence Prevailed And Threatened With The Sanctity Of The Fulfilment Once Sought. Breathing Through The Walls Of The Attraction, Below The Waste Of Time Lost Under Confusion Found.

Is There An End To This Waking Nightmare In Which I Inhabit. One Where I Can Keep Hold Of My Identity, One Where I Can Live. However Hard I Try All I Seem To Find Is The Intoxicating Drizzle Of Cruelty And The Unblinking Eyes Of My Most Feared Adversary. The Green Pastures Promised Have Been Set Aflame, When I Meet My End I Am To Be Laid To Rest In Their Ashes. As My Skin Sheds, As My Tissue Disintegrates, As My Now Bare Bones Shine In The Light Of The Moon And The Fading Glow Of The Inferno, Will I At Last Find Peace?

Repurposing A 9 Minute Segment From 'The Antichrist' (1974) With Detailed Focus On The Slowing Down Of Movement And Repetitious Pronouncement Of Actions. Switched To Black & White, Layered, Mirrored, Increasingly Frantic In Motion And Relation. The Terror Of The Original Images Altered In Distinct And Connecting Segments.

Repurposing Footage From 'Christmas Evil' (1980) To Amplify And Alter Its Expressions And Intentions. Forming An Alternate Viewed Relation Of Personal Visions. Destroying, Recoloring And Distorting The Original Images To Transport Them Further Into Their Own Spiritual Horror. Deepened And Retained.

Heavily Distorting Footage From "Hour Of The Wolf" By Ingmar Bergman. With An Express Focus On Faces And Bodies. Hollowing And Pronouncing Facial Features And Through Repetition Of Movement, Furthering A Preexisting Horror, Creating An Intensified Alter Reality. Form, Flesh And Soul Buried In Distortion

Voices Calling Telling Ripened By Truth Listen To Them Cradle The Consequence Things Get Worse Not Better Barely Breathing Sightless Seeing Beneath The Eyelids Even In Dreams Memories Sinless Image Carving Its Remembrance Over Scar Tissue Left Freely To Drown In Ones Own Bloodless Corpse Controlled And Freshly Abused One Sharp Brutal Instant To Become Painfully Immortal Deprived Of Everything But The Cure.

It Seemed In A Dream Like A Half Deceased Memory Failing In Its Own Relationship With The Truth. Buried Under Consciousness, Suffered Externally, Scarred Internally. A Great Silence Prevailed And Threatened With The Sanctity Of The Fulfilment Once Sought. Breathing Through The Walls Of The Attraction, Below The Waste Of Time Lost Under Confusion Found.

Is There An End To This Waking Nightmare In Which I Inhabit. One Where I Can Keep Hold Of My Identity, One Where I Can Live. However Hard I Try All I Seem To Find Is The Intoxicating Drizzle Of Cruelty And The Unblinking Eyes Of My Most Feared Adversary. The Green Pastures Promised Have Been Set Aflame, When I Meet My End I Am To Be Laid To Rest In Their Ashes. As My Skin Sheds, As My Tissue Disintegrates, As My Now Bare Bones Shine In The Light Of The Moon And The Fading Glow Of The Inferno, Will I At Last Find Peace?

Repurposing A 9 Minute Segment From 'The Antichrist' (1974) With Detailed Focus On The Slowing Down Of Movement And Repetitious Pronouncement Of Actions. Switched To Black & White, Layered, Mirrored, Increasingly Frantic In Motion And Relation. The Terror Of The Original Images Altered In Distinct And Connecting Segments.

Repurposing Footage From 'Christmas Evil' (1980) To Amplify And Alter Its Expressions And Intentions. Forming An Alternate Viewed Relation Of Personal Visions. Destroying, Recoloring And Distorting The Original Images To Transport Them Further Into Their Own Spiritual Horror. Deepened And Retained.

Fighting For A Lost Dream, Damning Realities Rise Up And Wither In The Sky, Hours Choking On Seconds As Breath Becomes Thicker Than The Encore Of Misery. Solitude Painted With Trauma, Roaming The Noiseless Day, Taking Pieces Of My Numbness And Burning In The Embers Of Your Hollowed Corpse. Every Scarred Inch Of My Softened Soul Confined Within The Heavy Burden Of Remembrance.

This Project Assembles 1 Second Shots From Over 200 Individual 1980's Horror Movies To Create A Rhythmic Montage Of Momentary Expressions And Image Relation. Throughout The Process Observing Connections And Repetitions To Form And Further The Concept With Each Brief Image.

If I Can't Scream How Will You Know The Agony I'm In. As Reality Folds So Does Time, But What Is It About This Feeling That Is So Familiar, Why Do I Seem To Be Reliving The Same Sequences Of Lamentation, And How Is It That The Rain Falling From The Sky Sears Through My Skin And Flesh.

Mirroring The Distance Between Natural Surroundings And Internal Separation. Duel Vision Within A Deepened State Of Dissociation. Nature And Psychosis Side By Side, Thinly Divided And Relentlessly Oppressive. Moments Which Could Not Last, Captured Briefly Alongside Their Reckoning.

An Experiment In Light And Water Motion. Progressively Increasing In Speed And Deepening Layers And Impact Of Sound To Create Through Combined Effects An Hypnotic Attack On The Senses.

Short Visual Experiment Repurposing Footage From "The Snake Pit" 1948 Directed By Anatole Litvak. Pronouncing The Nightmare To Further The Nightmare, Drowning It In Distortion.

Brief And Buried Glimpses Of Abandoned Creation. Flashing And Fainting Towards A Distant Sorrow. Layers Of A Reality Rippling Wild Through The Solemn Slits Of Eternity. Returned And Exactly Violent As The Bodies Worth, Soundless As The Sighs Of A Gentle Heaven, Mirrored And Upheld. Transformed Through The Irreparable And Absurd Assurance Of Indefinable Loss.

An Audio-Visual Incantation. Reworking Distorted And Layered Footage From 3 1920’s Exploitation/Explicit Films With Horror And Satanic Elements. The Footage Under Hypnotic Hues And Flashes Of Sight Beckoning A Relation Of The Psychology Of Depravation. The Merest Glimpses Of The Effect Accompanied By An Intrusive, Beating Soundtrack, Conjuring A Subtle Perversion Of Visual Disturbance.

Frames Of Night Lost To The Heart Closer To The Bounds Of Rhythm Wholly Translated Enclosing Holding Gaze A Hungering Search For Moments Transcended Meshes Of Refinement Unmade Together And Sealed In The Sight Of Darkness The Last Light And Trace And Ties Of The End Sound Still And Projected Upon Familiar Shadows Born Believing But Beaten Unraveled Despair Will Not Distract Sacrifice Growing Weightless Faltering Heaving Swaying Blinded But Beautiful The Old Draw Of The Fall Less Prepared But Bending Around The Corners Of Days Lived Unmade Somewhere Home Again My Light Is Failing.

Assembled Footage From Saturday 29th March 2025. Shot Towards The End Of A Two Week Long Psychotic Episode. Deep Within A Seemingly Neverending State Of Psychosis. An Attempt To Capture Surrounding Hallucinations And Visions Of Death. Images Which Can Not Be Seen On Camera But Were More Than Real In The Mind. Instead What Was Captured Is An Enactment Of A Fractured Reality. Surroundings, Images And Moments Seem As They Are On Screen As They Were When Filmed. The Reality Of What Was Seen In Those Images While In Psychosis (Through My Eyes) Will Be Known Only To Me.

Heavily Distorting And Altering Footage From Frederick Wiseman's Documentary "Titicut Follies" To Further The Nightmare And Relation Of The Original Images. A Quickened Retake Of Sight, Sound And Horror, Authoring An Inflamed Vision Of Existing Terror, Digging Up The Dead And Examining The Scars. (Part Of The 'Alter Images' Series)

Captured Over Several Sleepless Nights. An Attempt To Relate Internal Struggles Through The Physical Form. A Closeness Of Expression, Vulnerable And Manic. A Cathartic Release To An Outer Realm. The Mind Speaking Through The Body. Two Destructive Forces, Becoming One And Destroying In Unison.

With Blood Dripping From Your Fingers Telling Me I Have Not Seen The Eyeless Servant Of Schizophrenic Nightmares Becoming Reality, Said To Be Paranoid Delusions, Psychotic Illusions. Skin-Colored Heartstrings Binding Wrists To Sternum, Eyes Beneath Ascension, Peering, Prying, Cast The Presence Out Of The Heart, The Soul Falls From A Visionary Heaven, Feeding Me Poison As A Cure, I Scream Into Your Belief And Reveal Its Deceit, Expose Its Hedonism, It Is A Fury Begetting Flesh Tearing, Branding Memory Upon Every Inch Of Skin.

Currents Of Water, The Ether, The Fire, The Blood. / Progression Of The Fall, Its Sights, Its Flesh, Its Ruins.

Looped, Distorted And Layered Hallway Footage. Increasing In Intensity And Detail. Terrorized Intervals Visualizing Momentary Separation From Self And Form.

(Test Footage: 15/06) Created With Footage From Nicholas Ray's 'Johnny Guitar' An Attempt To Separate The Images From Themselves And In That Removal Create Alter Images. Intrinsically Their Own, The Alter Images Engraved Over The Surface Image Through Color And Distortion.

This Project Assembles 1 Second Shots From 260 Individual Silent Movies To Create A Rhythmic Montage Of Momentary Expressions And Image Relation. Throughout The Process Observing Connections And Repetitions To Form And Further The Concept With Each Brief Image.

Seeing What Was Before Me Took My Breath Away, I Stood In The Moonlight, The Glow Was Blinding, As The Wind Bellowed I Felt In That Solitary Moment Like I Never Have Before And When They Lined The Streets To Spit At Me I Could Look Up To The Sky And See The End Knowing That My Final Moments Were Spent In The Presence Of Overwhelming Beauty.

The Serpent’s Of Yesteryear Have Returned Hungry And Vengeful, They Seek Not Only Time And Thought But Belief And Conviction. If Nothing Else Let This Be A Confession, It Will Be Known That My Betterment Lies In Self-Hatred And Self-Violence Not In The Factious Or Resistance To Memory.

Delusions Of Control Shatter, Truths Talons Pierce The Already Dilapidated Heart. The Divine Liquid Spews, Cascading Down The Skin Turning To Ice As It Reaches Realities Bedrock. The Gaping Wound Suddenly Shuts. The Now Drained Heart Turns To Dust Within, Leaving The Breathing Carcass Floating Among The Masses.

Remnants Of Memories Of The Past. Carried Upon The Skin. The Result Of Years Of Pain Caused Through Dissociation, Psychosis And Mismanagement Of Related Symptoms. The Scars Of Time Deepened And Retained. Through This Project, Embraced And Unravelled. Visually Capturing A Secret Impossible To Hide. Peace And Sentence Divide, It All Must Be Accepted.

Invalidation, Rain Falls From The Sky And Burns, The Dead Rise, Blood Curdles, The Trees Shed Their Leaves, Innocence Is Bludgeoned By Reality, Evil Prospers. Seasons Have Changed And The World Has Frozen Over, I Shiver Out Of My Skin, I Roam Skinless And Bloody. I Reach My Destination Yearning For Warmth Of Any Kind, However I'm Met Only By The Scorn Of Those Who Have Conspired To Get Me To Kneel Before Them.

Altering And Furthering The Nightmare Of 1926's 'A Page Of Madness' By Teinosuke Kinugasa. Through A Five Strip Three Color Scheme (Orange, Black, White) Along With Distorted/Shifting Grains, Jump Cuts And Sporadic Repetition In Attempts To Pronounce The Horror Of Preexisting Images. Internally Bound But Externally Altered. Birthing A New Horror. Digitized, Baptized, Abandoned. (Part Of The ‘Alter Images’ Series)

Angel Of Virtue, Thou Art Blessed With Two Fretful Eyes Like Scattered Stars Melting Against A Slaughtered Sky. I Have Lost Count Of How Many Moons Have Shined Divine In Your Absence. A Thousand Crying Voices Drop Their Long Sleep Upon Me. I Wake To A Dream Of Universal Melancholy And Grotesque Enigmas, Hallowed And Shameful. My Blasphemous Birth Temporary Upon Withered Lips. Your Delicate Silvery Hands And Glassy Fingers Like Trembling Leaves Numb My Slumber.

A Series Of Interlocking Segments Utilizing & Distorting The Physical Form To Express Trauma, Pain & The Lasting Effects Of The Past On The Present. Taking A Directly Physical Approach In Expressing These Struggles. Freeing The Images From Their Ghosts In The Process.

Seen Never Sought Where Is The Time How Is The Axis Through All The All And All The Factions Seeping Out Of Their Want Isolated Benefitted Bandaged Up To The Retina Skin Through The Space I Wait I Turn Burn And Scorn The Undersky The Falsesigns The Terribletruths My Innocence Died A Child Rose A Rusted Angel Shivered Through Adolescence And Hangs Over My Bedrest As Age Over The Body As Flesh Over The Bone As Lack Over The Of And Shrivel Growth Smalling Its Life Ending Life Preserving Life Heavying Heaving Up The Dead Walling Up The Memories Happening With Being Being Without Going Gouging The Eyes To Hollow Gauging The Resistance Of Strength Mourning The Absence Of Silence.

Brought Forth In The Wake Of Blood Is This Expression Of My Current Situations And Surroundings. The Systems Put In Place That Proclaim Salvation For Those Who Are Willing To Accept Help Are In Personal Discovery Crooked And Capitalistic Institutes Of Manipulation And False Affirmations Of Self-Importance And In Certain Circumstances Godliness. Seek Help Before The Irreversible Occurs, Wait Endlessly, Get Run Around, Participate In Brief And Empty Conversations In Which Lies Are Told On Part Of The Feeders And Truths Told To Them By The Starving Celestial Are Ignored. Repeat The Process Each Time Escalating Further. But It's Never Enough. What Do They Want From Me? Not Long Left Now, One Way Or Another, Someone Will Win, Someone Will Lose.

Consumption Of The Soul, Of Mind And Body. Colors Scream, Echo And Suddenly Die. The Past Is Unforgiven And Unforgettable. Life Has Flashed Before My Eyes. I've Tried To Escape This All Consuming Force Grabbing And Squeezing My Tolerant Throat, To No Avail.

The Sun Dissolves Into The Sky, Into A Bleaker Realm, A Sleek Citadel Stripped Of Its Fragile Armor, Its Now Tragic Holy Opal Laid To Waste And Wrung Of Its Wet Light. A Deathless Rain Suffocates All In Exhilarating Fear, Flows Of Thunder Reverberate Like Loveless Songs, Voices Rippling Wild Through The Solemn Slits Of Eternity. Time Travels Up The Spine Of A Speechless Twilight, As I Descend Back Into The Torment Of Absence.

I Am Eternally Bound To The Fragile Moment Of Half-Hearted Reluctancy, Spent Sudden And Upon Me As The Foul Folds Of Sleepless Sympathy Relinquish All Ties And Bonds To My Once Sustainable Deception. Clasping In Fear The Promises Of The Protective Myth, Flowing Freely Its Silent Bloodlust Like A Starved Full-Dead Innocence Silenty Surrendering To Anemia. Holding Back The Night, Once Beloved, Its Internal Damages Rusting All Comfort, Sequencing The Inevitable. Acquiring Acceptance. Accepting My Fate. Losing To The Disease. Leaving It All Behind.

A Devotion Unworthy Of Language. Laying Eyes On The Second Self-Sainted Skyline, Its Grief Hearth Burning Like The Ash White Memory Of A Sacred Illusion, Breaking Its Consecrations, Resting In The Shattered Remnants Of Sanity. Throwing The Blood Stricken Evidence Of Innocence Back Into The Flesh Folds Of Night. Nights Horrified And Shaken With The Last Bittered Actions Of A Fading Resentment, Self Made And Wholly Damned To Its Own Purgatorial Place Of Demise, Despised And Abandoned. Each Awakening Diminishes A Part Of Being Which Can Never Be Recovered, Weakens And Sickens The Resolve And Sequences An End Unavoidable And Increasingly Necessary.

I Don't Remember Feeling This Urge The Last Time. Usually When I Get Such An Urge I Act Upon It Unless It Continuously Screams And Burrows Inside My Head. I Don't Think There Is Any Other Way Of Stopping It? It's Getting Increasingly Difficult To Distinguish Between My Own Thoughts And Feelings And Those Enforced By My Afflictions. I Gave So Many People So Many Chances To Do What Was Necessary, But Apparently It Wasn't Enough. Think Of All That Could Have Been Spared.

The Dreams That Await Me When A Moments Rest Is Finally Granted Only Seem To Be Growing More Cruel, Confining And Ceaseless. Many Times Events That Have Yet To Occur Have Appeared To Me, Events Forged With The Bones Of The Desolate And The Damned, Held In Place By Withdrawn Lifeblood And Paved With The Torn Flesh Of Devoured And Discarded Souls. A Path In Which I Have No Choice But To Walk, For To Turn And Walk The Other Way Would Mean Accepting A Fate Worse Than The Damnation At The Other End.

The Apparent Lust Of Blood Flesh Cut And Related To Memories Excavated Revealed And Brought To Knowing By Death Of Seeing By Knowing Of Trauma The Sorry Seven Sickness’ Devoting Reason And Belief To Disintegration Harbouring Abuse Young And Powerless Solved And Suffered Bled Of Active Substance Overdosed Returning Irresolutely To The Twelve Days Of Belonging Recaptured But Beckoned To Reliance Sickened To Compliance Destined To The Object Of Projection Escape Unnecessary Recovery Unprovoked Burned And Buried Above Safeties Sacred Sacrilege Struck By The Proclamations Exposed And Tarnished Damned To Worlds Among Shame Blameless But Convicted By The Mind.